ught to be exceedingly
unkind, and altogether unnecessary, on the part of Mr. Supplehouse.

"My dear," said Mrs. Harold, when she first met Miss Dunstable
after the catastrophe was known, "how am I possibly to endure this
degradation?" And she put her deeply laced handkerchief up to her
eyes.

"Christian resignation," suggested Miss Dunstable.

"Fiddlestick!" said Mrs. Harold Smith. "You millionaires always talk
of Christian resignation, because you never are called on to resign
anything. If I had any Christian resignation, I shouldn't have cared
for such pomps and vanities. Think of it, my dear; a Cabinet
minister's wife for only three weeks!"

"How does poor Mr. Smith endure it?"

"What? Harold? He only lives on the hope of vengeance. When he has
put an end to Mr. Supplehouse, he will be content to die." And then
there were further explanations in both Houses of Parliament, which
were altogether satisfactory. The high-bred, courteous giants assured
the gods that they had piled Pelion on Ossa and thus climbed up into
power, very much in opposition to their own good-wills; for they, the
giants themselves, preferred the sweets of dignified retirement. But
the voice of the people had been too strong for them; the effort had
been made, not by themselves, but by others, who were determined that
the giants should be at the head of affairs. Indeed, the spirit of
the times was so clearly in favour of giants that there had been no
alternative. So said Briareus to the Lords, and Orion to the Commons.
And then the gods were absolutely happy in ceding their places; and
so far were they from any uncelestial envy or malice which might not
be divine, that they promised to give the giants all the assistance
in their power in carrying on the work of government; upon which the
giants declared how deeply indebted they would be for such valuable
counsel and friendly assistance. All this was delightful in the
extreme; but not the less did ordinary men seem to expect that the
usual battle would go on in the old customary way. It is easy to love
one's enemy when one is making fine speeches; but so difficult to do
so in the actual everyday work of life. But there was and always has
been this peculiar good point about the giants, that they are never
too proud to follow in the footsteps of the gods. If the gods,
deliberating painfully together, have elaborated any skilful project,
the giants are always willing to adopt it as their own, no